


What's Left Is The Future

by yangbaes



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Major Character Injury, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 00:10:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8034391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yangbaes/pseuds/yangbaes
Summary: Missions had gone wrong before, but never quite like this. At least, not for McCree personally. He supposed he should have seen something like this coming one of these days. People didn’t make it back from missions all the time, things go south, people die. There’s a funeral, some generic speech about what a great soldier they were, people moved on. He just never saw himself in one of those cheap caskets they used if there was a body to recover. Never quite saw himself as the type of guy someone would write a speech about either.Well, it didn’t matter now, he’d brought this on himself. He just hoped Reyes writes him a damn good speech if it ends up with him dead in a casket.





	What's Left Is The Future

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work for Overwatch so I hope it's alright! I know a lot of different stories about how McCree lost his arm are around but this is one of the ideas I kind of thought about! I hope you enjoy!

Missions had gone wrong before, but never quite like this. At least, not for McCree personally. He supposed he should have seen something like this coming one of these days. People didn’t make it back from missions all the time, things go south, people die. There’s a funeral, some generic speech about what a great soldier they were, people moved on. He just never saw himself in one of those cheap caskets they used if there was a body to recover. Never quite saw himself as the type of guy someone would write a speech about either.

Well, it didn’t matter now, he’d brought this on himself. He just hoped Reyes writes him a damn good speech if it ends up with him dead in a casket.

McCree supposed he wouldn’t die with many regrets-- he certainly didn’t regret what got him in this position. Sacrificing himself to get Angela out alive and well was worth it. He hadn’t seen any other hostages, so she must’ve gotten away and back to the group. The other alternative was that they’d found her and killed her, but he really didn’t want to think about that possibility.

Not when he was chained up in some cell, god knows where, with god knows who trying to use him as a way to get information on Overwatch.  _ Good fucking luck _ . McCree may look like the runt, but he knew how to keep his mouth shut when it counted. He didn’t sell out Deadlock at 17 and he sure as hell wasn’t gonna sell out Overwatch at 23. He was young but he was not the weakest link.

McCree snapped back into reality at the sound of the cell opening up. He looked up to find a man he didn’t recognize, but just by looking at him he could tell picking a fight with this guy might not end well for him. The man took a good look at him before shaking his head.

“Really? A man dressed like a cowboy? This will be too easy…” The man’s voice was deep, but not quite as demanding as Reyes’.

McCree couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

“What’s so funny, runt?”

“You thinkin’ this’ll be easy.” Jesse said honestly, “I aint talkin.”

The man let out a growl and grabbed McCree by the hair, forcing him to look right at him.

“That so? Then we’ll skip talking and get right to the part where you’re screaming.”

Jesse only had a second to brace himself before the man slammed his head against the nearest wall. The man wasted no time after he was down on the ground, kicking him hard in the ribs and then yanking him back up and dragging him out of the cell. McCree briefly considered struggling but he was outnumbered without his gun. He already knew how that would end for him.

“Don’t think about escaping, boy, you won’t make it far. You’ll be shot and killed if we’re kind. Or we could torture you to death for the fun of it.”

McCree only grunted in response, wincing as he was shoved into another room. He tried not to think about how blood was splattered across the walls of the room, or the man standing in the room holding something that looked too sharp.

“This is your last chance to talk before we start the fun,” The man who had dragged him here said, shoving him to the ground, “Tell us everything you know about Overwatch.”

“In your fuckin’ dreams,” McCree spat, which immediately earned him a kick to the gut.

“Have it your way.”

The other man stepped forward, holding the sharp device dangerously close to McCree’s face. Now that the man had moved, McCree could see various other objects scattered behind him, objects that were clearly used for torturing prisoners. He’d gotten himself into one hell of a mess this time.

“Maybe if you beg enough we’ll give you another chance to talk.” The first man said before going to grab something for himself.

McCree couldn’t do anything except try to brace himself for the pain, but nothing had prepared him for what he was about to be put through. At the end of the day, all McCree could do was pride himself in that he didn’t beg-- not once-- for the pain to stop. He didn’t beg for a chance to talk, and he didn’t beg for death. He wouldn’t give them what they wanted. He knew if they couldn’t get him to spill information about Overwatch, all they wanted was a broken man they could beat black and blue.

He was better than that. No, if he was going to die here, he wasn’t going to die begging.

 

Gabriel Reyes was not a man who was easy to surprise. He’d seen a lot, been through alot. He was pretty sure nothing some stupid trainee could tell him would legitimately shock him. He was wrong. So, so wrong. As the kid stumbled over his words to try to inform his commander that they’d lost one of their most valuable members, Gabriel felt a sinking feeling in his chest.

“McCree--” The trainee was saying, “He didn’t-- he stayed, he  _ saved  _ us all, sir, he didn’t make it out… Not with us. After we met up with Mercy… He was gone.”

“Dead?” Gabriel immediately questioned.

“N-no sir, maybe, sir,” The trainee said, “We haven’t identified him among the bodies.”

“You’re dismissed.”

“Sir?”

“Leave.  _ Now _ .” Gabriel’s tone was harsher than needed, but he really needed to be alone and just  _ think-- _

“Gabe,” No sooner had his subordinates left when he heard Jack’s voice.

“I don’t need to hear it right now, Jack,” Gabriel snapped, “Not from you.”

Jack shifted awkwardly, not quite sure how to approach his friend right now. They’d both lost men in the past-- it was bound to happen. They’d lost subordinates and friends alike, and it never really got easier despite them all wishing it would one day. Jack knew the special kind of pain that came with losing someone who was supposed to look up to you for guidance. He knew Gabriel knew it too, and he knew Gabriel would take it personally if McCree was dead.

“Angela looked over all the bodies we could recover. She said McCree wasn’t any of them. We could have told by the lack of cowboy get up, but she wanted to be sure.” Jack carefully informed Gabriel.

“What are you saying, Jack,” Gabriel asked tiredly.

“She suspects he’s been taken hostage.”

Gabriel looked at him now, frowning.

“Angela suspects this.” He stated, “And what do  _ you _ suspect.”

“I think there’s a possibility.” Jack said, honestly. “A small one.”

There was a small moment of silence while Gabriel considered this. McCree was MIA, not dead, as far as technicalities went. Recon missions weren’t normally a thing in Blackwatch. There was the risk of it bringing too much attention to the team, but this time there was an underlying threat that just happened to work out with what Gabriel  _ wanted  _ to do.

He was only a few seconds away from saying fuck what he should do when Jack opened his mouth again.

“The mission failure is public, it was an Overwatch mission after all, and McCree is missing because of my team, I’m sure we can convince the UN to allow us to track the group that did this--”

“Fuck the UN and fuck this ‘your team’ bullshit. I aint wasting time convincing people that we need to shut these guys down. I’m getting together a team and when we find out where they’re hiding, I’m going.”

“Gabriel I’m more than willing to help--”

“Don’t need it. Jesse’s my responsibility and part of my team. I’m getting him back or I’m getting rid of the pieces of shit that killed him.” 

 

Four days. It had been four days since Jesse had been taken hostage. He’d been put through the wringer and then some. These guys were creative with their torture methods, that much was for sure. McCree would’ve been impressed had he been a few years younger and back in Deadlock. Or if he wasn’t the one being tortured in general... 

He could barely move, he was in so much pain. They’d started with beating him and cutting him-- it seemed pretty standard. The cuts stung like a bitch, but he swore up and down he’d been through worse. A few cuts were nothing. So they stepped it up, real fast. They’d gotten to some cheap form of electrocution by the time they realized McCree really wasn’t going to talk. He would scream until his throat bled from it, but he wouldn’t tell them what they wanted.

He figured his time was limited now. He was half right.

McCree was unceremoniously dragged to a new room today. There was a chair in the middle that was bolted to the floor. He was tossed in it and strapped down, then left for about ten minutes. He had no idea what they’d do to him next. He couldn’t think of anything, but he was sure there were dozens of things they hadn’t tried yet. It had only been four days, even if that felt like four months to him.

He heard the door open, but didn’t care to check to see who it was. He already knew.

“Look at you,” His main captor said. “Still holding on. You won’t be for much longer.”

McCree tried to say something back, but found he couldn’t get his voice to cooperate.

“Cat got your tongue?” The man asked, sounding disinterested, “You know...I was going to give you another chance to talk today, but I think we’ll just skip right to the good parts. Tomorrow  _ will  _ be your last chance, runt. If you even make it till then.”

The man gave him a sinister smile before unbuckling his left arm from the chair and yanking it so that it made a nasty snapping noise. McCree screamed immediately, fighting against the restraints. He only heard a cruel laugh before he heard more snapping; McCree vaguely processed his fingers were the next to be broken. His arm was then forced back into the restraint, keeping it painfully straight though the bones were snapped in two.

“You see this?” The man asked, pulling a decently sized dagger out and dangling it in front of McCree’s face, “You wanna know what this’ll be used for? I’m gonna cut your fucking arm off with this and feed it to the dogs. Slowly and painfully…” He sighed contently before beginning to drag the dagger deep into McCree’s arm, just above the elbow.

All McCree could do was writhe and scream in pain. If he hadn’t begged before, he was now. Anything to make the pain stop but the man didn’t listen. No one that came in or out during the hours and hours it took for them to slowly cut his arm off listened when he screamed at them to  _ stop _ .

They didn’t stop until his arm was completely severed. By that point McCree was in so much pain he couldn’t tell if his arm was really gone or maybe he’d just stopped feeling in general. He couldn’t make sense of it even when they removed the severed part of his arm and showed it to him. Nothing was being processed right.

He saw mouths moving but couldn’t make sense of the words. It didn’t matter, they were probably just taunting him anyways. He was about to give into everything in his body that told him to give into the black surrounding his vision and just sleep, but a burning sensation woke him right back up.

McCree could hear himself screaming and the laughter of his captors. The burning feeling stayed where his arm had been severed for a moment before it was gone. It almost felt worse having the cool air hit the wound than having the constant burning heat on it.

“Can’t have you bleeding out just yet,” He heard, only then processing they seared the wound closed-- well mostly closed. It was a sloppy job. He’d still bleed overnight. There was a good chance he’d be dead by morning, but they probably wouldn’t mind if he succumbed to his injuries.

At this point McCree was too defeated to fight to live simply to spite these assholes. A part of him wanted it to be over. A part of him wanted to beg for death right then and there but he couldn’t get the words out even if he tried.

It’d all be over soon, McCree realized. He’d either die overnight or they’d kill him tomorrow when he was still in too much pain to even speak.

 

Finding the base hadn’t been too hard, Reyes thought as they approached. It’d all be over soon. He’d either find Jesse, hopefully alive, or he’d kill everyone responsible for his death. Five days could be a lot if you were a hostage, and every minute could be the difference between Jesse making it out of this alive or him dying before Gabriel even had a chance to help him.

Despite Gabriel’s protests, some of Jack’s “finest” were assigned to the mission as well. It didn’t bother Gabriel nearly as much as he thought it would. The soldiers followed orders, that’s all he asked for. They weren’t distracting him, but the presence of Mercy was slightly irritating him. She was only here because she was their best medic. He didn’t want her here, but he’d resigned to the fact he might need her if they were to find Jesse in bad shape.

He hoped she wouldn’t be needed.

“Commander, we’re here.”

Gabriel was more than ready. Taking out their first defenses was easy enough. A bit easier than Gabriel thought it’d be, so he kept alert just in case it began to feel like they were walking into a trap. It became painfully obvious the group was just unprepared.  _ Disappointing _ , Gabriel scoffed as he shot one of the guards near the door then barged in.

Not as many people seemed to be inside, but whoever he saw he shot and killed. A few agents followed him inside before they split up to look for any sign of McCree or any other hostages. Gabriel followed down the longest hallway which seemed to lead into a holding area, based on the many prison-like cells the group had put up.

Keeping his guard up, Gabriel checked the first two cells, finding no sign of any sort that they’d even been recently used. The third one he checked made him feel sick to his stomach. Blood covered the walls of the cell and on the ground was McCree’s bloodied hat and serape. But no McCree.

Gabriel fought to keep the panic rising in his chest down. He’d dealt with this before. He’d seen things like this before. It shouldn’t be affecting him so bad-- none of it should, really. He knew somewhere in his mind it was because he allowed himself to get attached to Jesse and that was his own damn fault, but he never imagined it’d land him where he was now.

Letting out a frustrated shout, Gabriel turned on his heels and left the room. His gun was ready in his hand to shoot enemies on sight, but his mind was completely focused on finding McCree. He went back up the hallway and turned right, finding a series of rooms on either side of that hallway. The first one just reminded Gabriel of the cell he’d been looking at a few moments prior.

Covered in blood.

He felt rage settle in but forced himself to exit the room and move for the next door. He pushed it open and braced himself for whatever horror show he was going to be met with this time. Alongside a blood stained floor and chair, he found McCree, huddled in the corner farthest from the door.

Gabriel didn’t think twice before rushing towards him.

“McCree,” His voice was full of relief at first until he got closer and saw what had been done to him.

He was beaten, cut, burned-- his fucking arm had been cut off. Jesse hardly looked alive and honestly Gabriel wasn’t sure that he even was. Immediately he knelt next to the younger man and gently tried to move him.

“ _ Stop _ !” Jesse hissed, protesting the change of position. His voice was hoarse, honestly hard to understand and hear, but Gabriel got the message and kept still.

“Shit, kid,” Gabriel sighed. “You’re alive… How the fuck are you still alive...”

Jesse didn’t say anything at first. Instead his eyes lazily moved towards Gabriel, as if he was just now beginning to process he was there. It scared Gabriel a bit that McCree never really seemed to fully understand he was  _ there _ .

“Jesse, I have to move you if I’m gonna get you out of here.” Gabriel warned.

He waited a moment to see if Jesse could at least respond to that.

“... _ hurts _ .”

“I know it does.” Gabriel murmured, trying to hoist McCree up as gently as possible.

He didn’t entirely succeed, but Jesse was still in one piece despite looking like he could fall apart at any moment. Still keeping in mind to be careful, Gabriel turned and began to walk out. He had to get McCree to Mercy, fast. He no longer heard gunfire in the background, so he was left to assume it would be safe to move McCree now. His team had to have won.

They were no sooner down the hall when Gabriel heard McCree try to whisper something. He’d really rather the kid save his energy right now, but he questioned what he said anyways.

“...Gabe, Gabe it  _ hurts _ …” Jesse groaned, “‘m gonna die…”

“You’re not gonna die.” 

“...I don’t wanna die… I don’t…”

“Damn it, boy,” Gabriel pushed forward, trying to get back to Mercy quicker.

He hated how broken Jesse sounded and looked. It made something in himself hurt for Jesse, as if it took any of his pain away. 

Gabriel couldn’t do anything once he got McCree to Mercy. All he could do was sit there and wait as Mercy did what she could right then and then he had to wait for them to get back to the base. He knew once they were back, he’d end up waiting some more so he didn’t leave McCree’s side the way back.

“...’m not gonna let you die, kid, not for a long, long time.”


End file.
